FaceTime Magic

The littlest was holding his mother's iPhone, chattering away at his Northern-most grandparents. He wasn't just sure how he had got the phone this time, but he was going to make the most of it. His sister's hand hovered somewhere near (with the occasional lunge), so the small boy tightened his grip.

At two, he was not quite savvy enough to hold the thing steady. We had a good view of his forehead, but that was about it. Throughout the conversation (at least 10 minutes), we addressed our questions there but that was OK. All we really wanted was to keep on listening to that voice and seeing that head.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/jenny-pics/5661879987/

He walked as he talked. We could see moving objects in the rooms behind him, as he went. Here there would be a light fixture, and there the flash of a toilet or sink. But on he walked, gripping and chattering. And then, all motion suddenly ceased. 

"I CAN SEE MY BRAIN!!" he shouted out, in wonder. 

His sister argued with this statement, but he would not give it up. The revelation had made his day and it didn't matter that he couldn't actually see his brain; that his brain was protected and covered up by his skull; that brains are not things you can look at when they belong to you; that doctors are the ones who can look in there.

All of this perfect sense never occurred to a two year old.

Inadvertently the 'end' button was pushed, and our conversation ended. Grandpa and Grandma talked it all over, and laughed out loud. The two of us, together. For together we had chosen this life. It had occasionally been messy, yes; but also it had more than occasionally been magnificent. Together, we get both.

You stick together. All of the messiness is worth it, for the magnificence. 


See you along the way!
the SconeLady

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jenny-pics/5661879987/">jenny downing</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">cc</a>